Distance: Part 4 of Going Back
by Milo Pressman
Summary: Jack walks away from a battle; Jack learns Kate is going to London; Bob Warner and Jack are in agreement on a few things.


Distance  
  
When he got off the phone Jack stood and stretched, trying to get the stiffness out of his back and legs. He walked over to the printer and took the pages which had just come out over to his conference table, filing them into the various sections of the partially filled black ring binder that was lying there. This he took back with him to the sofa, and idly leafed through it. There was a lot more here than he'd expected to find. Bob had really gotten very careless about covering his tracks.  
  
He wasn't an accountant or a tax attorney but Jack knew enough about money laundering to know when a pattern of transactions looked suspicious. Banks had to report deposits and withdrawals of ten thousand dollars or more. So when there were a lot of $9,999.99 entries even the most casual observer would start to wonder. And here were, literally, hundreds of them, occurring at regular, two to three day intervals, with the same banks, over and over again. Add to that the foreign currency transactions (who would convert millions of dollars into rubles, of all things?), and the list of the major investors in Warner Corporations' stable of new, off-shore subsidiaries...there was enough here to make any three U.S. Attorneys start salivating at the mouth The one into who's lap this information would actually fall would rub his palms together with glee. Not to mention the dear old IRS. The old truism was definitely borne out by what he held in his hands: you couldn't go too far wrong if you just bothered to follow the money.  
  
The investors' list was of particular interest to Jack. He'd run cross checks of those names against a few lists of his own: illegal arms dealers, men tied to the various organized crime families that had sprung up all over what used to be called Eastern Europe, people who shipped restricted computer parts into China and North Korea and, of course, the money guys who laundered drug money through Malaysia, Indonesia, South Africa and Taiwan. And he'd come up with a good twenty-five definite matches.  
  
Now, what was that all about?  
  
Say that, after further investigation, fifteen to twenty percent of what he'd found in the accounting line actually panned out as being questionable. That alone was enough for the procurement boys at the Pentagon to wake up, take their feet off their desks, sit up straight and decide they probably needed to start checking into the contracts Bob already had with the Defense Department. It was probably enough to trigger a full re-evaluation of Warner Corps' pre-qualifications for bidding on a variety of military supply and support contracts. It would take a few months, if not an entire year, to get that straightened out, during which time Bob's competitors would be lapping up the bids and the contracts he was counting on getting. A little further down the line his cash flow would get tighter and tighter. Since he counted on the Feds, by the look of his income statement, for a good twelve to fifteen percent of his revenue stream, it wouldn't be too long, maybe another year or so, before Warner would be wondering how he was going to simultaneously pay his debt service and meet next week's payroll.  
  
He had him right where he lived, in the wallet. If you really wanted to get the attention of somebody like Bob Warner, all you had to do was mention money, and the man would go into a point like a good field dog. Money was the real thing to Warner, the lodestone of his life .  
Now the issue was, how to play it. Kate had mentioned that Warner would get back from England in a week or so. Then he and Bob could have one of those interesting meetings they had from time to time in a bar. Only this time it would be in a bar that Jack would choose, and he'd set the agenda. Then they'd do a nice trade, or declare a stalemate, and come to understand each other even more fully than they already did. And Bob would get the hell out of their lives. And Jack could stop worrying about Kate finding out anything more. Plus, he'd have the sweet satisfaction of thoroughly and completely sticking it to old Bob, in return for past insults rendered. At least that was the plan.  
  
The problem was, Bob would call his bluff. He'd take the risk that Jack would never make good on any threat to turn all this over to anybody who could actually do something with it. Because they both knew that an attack on Bob was also, automatically, an attack on Kate.  
  
Jack fiddled with a pen. He could almost taste the bitterness of his disappointment. That little scene he'd just constructed in his mind was never going to happen. After he worked it through from every possible angle he had reached the conclusion, with extreme reluctance, that if he inflicted a major wound on Bob, the person who would bleed the most was...Kate. If her father went down...if he lost his reputation, or actually went to jail, or lost his money, or control of his company, or any combination thereof...she would be damaged, too. Because she loved her father. Much as she recognized his faults, she still loved him.  
  
The infuriating thing, the thing that Jack knew had helped to cloud his judgment about even starting down this path in the first place, was that life didn't work the same way in the opposite direction. Bob didn't care a rat's ss how Kate would feel when she heard about the things that Jack was still keeping back from her. As long as the end result was Jack's departure from the scene Bob was just fine with all of that. He wouldn't have any second thoughts. Warner was a man who could keep his priorities straight, who wouldn't get distracted by side issues. 'She'll get over him, she'll forget about him in six months, she got over him the last time, didn't she?' Bob would tell himself. Better to get this done and over with now. The sooner Jack Bauer is history, and, this time, stays history, the better.  
  
Jack put the binder on the coffee table, leaned back, closed his eyes and let the defeat wash over him. He couldn't protect what he and Kate had because the only weapon at his disposal was also a poison that would ultimately undermine the very thing he was trying to protect. He couldn't put the Feds on Bob's tail and then turn around and act concerned and surprised when the subpoenas and the indictments started coming down. How could he do something so destructive to her father, behind her back, and then have any other part of their relationship have any truth or any honesty in it?  
  
He had pushed and, ultimately crossed, many limits in order to get his job done, or to survive in a very rough business. But this wasn't a life or death situation. This time he had a choice. One of those rare instances where he actually had a choice about what type of person he was going to be.  
  
The bottom line was, he couldn't bring himself to deliberately destroy someone she loved, even a man he disliked as intensely as he disliked Bob Warner. There was no sense in threatening to crush Bob unless he was fully prepared to follow through. And he knew that, in the end, he wouldn't do it, because of Kate. He had to step aside and let Bob, in his arrogant stupidity, show Kate exactly what type of man each of them really was.  
  
He put the binder in his safe and glanced at his watch. It was his turn to pick up something for them to eat tonight. They hadn't seen each other in three days. Her father wasn't due back for at least another week. They had to make the most of that time, before the next bomb landed at their feet.  
  
What Jack called, to himself, "the drug issue", had been sidestepped, but it was always there between them. . That was what was at the base of most of the arguments. He hadn't stayed overnight for a while, since a day or so after she'd told him she didn't want it in the house. He would get up and leave, and drive back to the place where he stayed. And sleep there until it was time to get up for work. He was still using as much as ever and she knew it and they couldn't talk about it anymore. Jack continued his categorical refusal to do anything about it until Ramon's interrogation and plea bargain were completed or, at least, were going somewhere. He had no intention of getting any professional help at any stage, and he'd told her that, too. As far as Jack was concerned, the subject was closed. They'd hit the brick wall of his obstinacy and it was making them testy, cross and defensive with each other.  
  
What was happening was the dwindling down. All that fierce, intense love, all the surprising and "too good to be true" relief that they'd found each other again, was receding slowly, being gradually, almost imperceptibly moved aside by something else that was with them all the time. Every conversation, every meal together, every walk, was suffused with the pressure of knowing, but not confronting, what it was he was doing to himself. As he had shut down discussion of the most important thing that lay between them, talking about the other things was slowing down too. He was closing up again right before her eyes and she didn't know how to stop it. All of it because he couldn't admit to her that he needed any help beyond what she gave him as a matter of course, what came from her love for him. Kate knew it wasn't enough. So much more was required. But he couldn't move. He wouldn't change.  
  
And yet he knew, in his heart, that she was right. There was too much going on for them to deal with on their own. It was Mexico, and all the assignments that he'd had before Mexico, and what doing his job entailed, and his discovery that self-medication, with either drugs or alcohol or both, had a certain usefulness. And it was also, still, Teri. And if you were going to go back that far and you started digging who knew where you'd end up. He told Kate that maybe his mother had dropped him on his head after all, but she didn't laugh or even look amused when he said it.  
  
Even though neither of them wanted it to happen the uneasy quiet between them grew every day. The problems were all intermingled and all painful. He was prickly and defensive because he knew it was all coming at them from his side of the ledger, not hers. The really frightening thing was the feeling they both had (but they hadn't said this out loud to each other, either), that they'd been down this road together before, and they knew where it would lead.  
  
But, even with so much at risk, he couldn't make himself move forward. He couldn't change.  
  
Jack tried to get up quietly, so she could sleep through. It was about midnight, and Kate seemed fast asleep. But when he turned around, still buttoning his shirt, she sat up, and turned on the light.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you".  
"Its ok. I'll just go back after you've left".  
He sat down to pull his socks and shoes on. She got up on her knees behind him, and started rubbing his shoulders. But after a minute or so, he took her hands, and gently moved them away.  
  
"I've got to get going", was all he said.  
  
Kate stood up and put on a robe.  
"I meant to tell you earlier. In a day or so I have to go to London". She was facing the closet, trying to sound as casual as possible. "I don't know the exact day yet. Probably Thursday. I'll let you know tomorrow". She turned around and he was looking at her with his head to one side, like he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard.  
  
"You're going where?"  
"I have to go to London. Dad called from there today. There's a snag in that merger I was talking to you about. We have to change the financing schedule. And since I'm the lead attorney..."  
"And you believed him?"  
"What do you mean? Of course I believed him".  
Jack turned around, partly to hide his anger at her gullibility. He clipped his holster to his waist.  
"When will you get back?" he said, his back still to her.  
"In about a week. It may take longer".  
"I'll bet".  
  
Kate was suddenly angry with him.  
"Well Jack, "she shot back, "treat it like an opportunity. Now you can go get Claudia, and have some time to get re-acquainted, without worrying...".  
  
It was the argument she'd refused to have with him earlier in the evening, the one she knew wouldn't be fair, because she knew what an awkward situation he was in. She didn't really doubt his assurances, not when she was calm, and the sun was shining, and they were in synch with each other. But when it was like this, and he came across with this defensive, belligerent attitude...it just set her off."I told you. It won't be like that"."Then return the complement, and stop worrying about Richard. I'm going to a city with twelve million people in it, and you're afraid I'm going to see him"."I'm not afraid you're going to see him, Kate". He picked up his wallet and cell phone from the top of the dresser. "I know you're going to see him. Your father will take care of that". He turned and looked at her, quizzing her.

"You really don't see what he's doing, do you?"  
"No, Jack, I don't. Enlighten me."  
"Your father," he said, with mock patience, scooping up his pocket change, "wants to get as much distance between you and me as humanly possible, because he hates my guts. That's what this little trip to London is all about".  
She was furious.  
"Why are you the only one with a job with responsibilities, Jack? I'm not a child who can't judge things for herself. Do you think I couldn't decide, for myself, whether I needed to be there or not?"  
"Fine. Go then. I hope you listen real close to what he has to tell you. I hope you get an earful".

He turned and walked towards the living room. Kate followed him, becoming angrier with each step. How he was acting just didn't make any sense."If there was something he wanted to tell me, don't you think he could do it just as well here? He's only a few feet down the hall from me every day. What is he going to tell me that you're so afraid of?"Jack started shoving papers into his briefcase, ignoring her.Then a light bulb went off, and she knew what had happened."You saw him, didn't you".  
He still ignored her.  
"You met him, and the two of you talked about me, didn't you. Like this was the Middle Ages, and you had to square-off on which one of you owned me,".  
Jack finally stopped what he was doing and looked at her.  
"He asked to see me".  
"Like that excuses it".  
"Oh, and have him think I was afraid to hear what he had to say? Besides, I had to tell him to increase your security".  
"My security? What security?"  
"Kate, they were coming to kill me, not so long ago, remember" This was delivered singsong, like in the schoolyard. "I couldn't keep an eye on you by myself, I was too busy watching my own back". Like he was talking to a stubborn brat.  
"Next time, don't bother".  
"Kate, now that's a really brilliant thing to say". His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"So, let me get this straight. You actually want to end up like Teri?"

They stood staring at each other.

"What did he say to you, Jack?" She deliberately lowered the tone of her voice. To stay calm. To stay in control.  
"Go ask 'Daddy' what he said to me".  
"I wish you'd get off this working class hero thing, like you got raised in a housing project somewhere".He knew he should stop. He told himself to stop. But that didn't happen.  
"Well, ok, Kate, let's see: what did 'Daddy' say to me?" He ticked off Bob's accusations on his fingers."He called me a thief. Like I'd actually want to keep Ramon's dirty money.

"Now, for the record, 'Daddy' was wrong on that one. That was money I earned. They got full value out of me, believe me. Where that money happened to come from, what I had to do to get it, those little details wouldn't bother your Dad too much. You know, 'all money is green', and all that. A little bit more in the old bank account might actually make him decide to give me a second look.

"And, what else did he say? Oh yeah. He said there was a woman somewhere, or a whole string of them. Well he was right, on both points, Kate. You know about Claudia...kind of. And there were a few others whose names escape me for the moment. Well, a lot of others, to be perfectly frank. Both down there and after I got back."For some reason, he wanted to hurt her, to make her think he'd cheated on her, to make her wonder what he was doing on the increasing number of nights when they were too busy, or too tired, or too angry, to see each other. Maybe he wanted her to wonder where he would actually end up tonight, or any other night, after he left her.

"And," Jack continued, "'Daddy' said I'd acquired a taste for what the Salazars were selling. Looks like he got that one dead on. I think I was one of their best customers, towards the end there.

"And, he also said, what was his phrase? Oh yeah, now I remember. He said I had 'blood on my hands, right up to the elbows'. So we both know he was right on that one too, don't we, Kate.  
"He even said," Jack went on relentlessly "that I was the worst thing that ever happened to you.  
"For a pompous bstrd, your Daddy's pretty sharp".

For a few seconds Kate had no idea how to respond to him. Was she supposed to bring him up short, for the basic unfairness of flaying her for things her father had said? Was she supposed to take the bait, and ask him if this was his crude way of telling her he was seeing someone else?Or was something else going on here? Why did it matter so much to Jack, what her father said about anything? Why were those words burned into his brain, and so easy for him to recall in an instant, as if they'd been said just ten minutes ago, instead of weeks ago? And then she understood. It still took all of her self-control, all of her will power, to keep her voice steady. But at least she finally understood."What else could he tell me about you, Jack, that I don't already know? I don't need to hear every detail. I don't have to know what happened every time you picked up a gun. It sounds like you saw him a while ago, after we got back from the beach. Don't you see? What could he say to me now, what could anyone say to me now, that you haven't told me already? If he or anybody else has something to say to me about you, I can tell him he might as well keep it to himself. Because you told me, Jack. You told me."

He looked away from her.  
"I know how hard it was for you to tell me those things. I know, Jack. But you did it anyway. You think talking to me, telling me what's bothering you, means you're weak, that it means there's something wrong with you. But it really shows how strong and how honest you are. When you could have just pretended that everything was fine inside of you, you were strong enough to tell me that it wasn't.  
"No, the problem isn't that he'll have more details, or even that he'll tell me about something you just haven't been able to put into words yet," she added.  
"The problem is that last part. About you being the worst thing that ever happened to me.  
"The problem, Jack, is that, deep down inside, you think he's right".

He picked up his car keys.  
"If I'm so good for you, Kate, then why am I headed out of here in the middle of the night? We both know why. Because I've got a habit that's a mile deep and a mile wide and I'm afraid to even try and shake it."If I'm so good for you, then how is it that, four weeks ago, people were coming here to kill you? They were serious, Kate. They weren't just going through the motions. If they'd found you, they would have killed you. Not before they had some fun, either. They would have laughed about it while they were hurting you. And they almost brought it off. It was a matter of minutes, Kate, do you understand me? Minutes and a bit of luck. That's the only thing that kept it from happening. I don't think this particular bunch will be back, but I can't be sure of that. And when and if I come back the next time, we'll just have to start worrying about this all over again."We've seen each other exactly twice in the last week. And once I ended up throwing a plate against the wall, and both times you ended up in tears. How many arguments were there the week before that? And the one before that? And this is supposed to be good for you? This is supposed to be the best that you can expect? This is supposed to be what you deserve?"Kate racked her brain, trying, again, to find a way to get through to him, to make him understand something that to her was so obvious it required no explanation at all.

"Jack, what makes you think I care so much about how many arguments we have, or how many plates get broken? Go ahead and break the whole dmn set of dishes next time, I couldn't care less about some stupid dishes. What we're trying to do here is hard. As long as we don't end up killing each other, I don't care if things aren't sweet, and pleasant, and calm all the time, or even half the time. I get more than enough of that when you're gone. I'd rather have this with you, this exact second, and every misunderstanding and cross word and shouting match that comes along with it, than have all the peace in the world, and not have you".

He closed his eyes and swallowed. "I just can't stop feeling, Kate, that you're selling yourself short".

"Don't I have any say about this, Jack?" she demanded. "Don't I get to decide what's good for me, and what isn't? What gives you the right to decide all this, all by yourself? What gives my father more say in this, with you, than I have? What's fair or right about that?

"My father is an old man. He hasn't loved anyone in twenty years. What does he know about what I feel about you or what you feel about me? Why do you listen to him, and what he says about you? Why don't you listen to what _I _say about you, instead? How can you memorize everything he says when he's attacking you, when he's trying to get between us, but you can't even hear what it is that _I _have to say? Don't I know you better than he does?"

Jack looked at her with all the old sadness around his eyes, the profound sadness she hadn't seen in him in weeks.

"No Kate, you're wrong. He does know me better than you do. Because I haven't told you the worst thing".

"Then tell me, Jack. Tell me right now".

"I can't".  
He wanted to set the record straight on one particular subject, before he left.

"I never meant," he said slowly and deliberately, "to tell you about all the nameless others, Kate. At least, not that way, not as a way to hurt you. That was anger and a lot of fear talking. Regardless of where it came from...they didn't mean anything, not anything at all. I know men always say that but this time, at least, its true".

He stopped, and went on even more gently.

"There hasn't been anybody but you since we got back together. Right when I first got back, it was different. But there's been nobody but you since then".

He picked up his briefcase and, leaning over, kissed her forehead. "I have to go now. Let's talk some more tomorrow. I'll really think about what you said. I promise I will. And I'll call you".


End file.
